One Couple. 350 Square Feet. 365 Days. We Made It!
One year ago today, our apartment looked like this:
On July 23, 2005, spiceboy and I hauled all of our earthly possessions from Boston to New York. It was a brutally hot day, and I remember parking my car on Second Avenue and looking around at the shops, restaurants, and people everywhere. This is home now, I thought, testing the word "home" on myself to see if it fit. I was giddy with the prospect of all of New York spread out at my feet.
Then I stepped out of my car and plunged my foot into a sinkhole filled with warm, inky black water.
Yeah, New York is like that sometimes.
After making countless trips up the four flights of steps, after cramming all of the wordly possessions that had once filled our 650 sq ft Boston apartment into the scant 350 sq ft that was to become our home, and after the movers finally left, spiceboy and I stood in the middle of the chaos, staring at one another, then at the towers of boxes and piles of junk surrounding us.
The general feeling in the air, as I recall, was now what?
Then Dear Friend ABS showed up with a couple of six packs of beer, and we drank them together, perched on various boxes and pieces of furniture, and chatting. And the apartment was a mess and the air was hot and sticky and the whole apartment smelled vaguely of cat pee, but for better or worse, we were here. In New York. Finally.
Fast foward 365 days:
It's a cool evening. spiceboy is in the kitchen, fussing over dinner, and the house smells of garlic and roasted vegetables. I'm in the bedroom, tapping away at the computer. The TV is on, the window is open, and my white ballet slippers--the ones I wore to my wedding and that I now wear everyday--are sitting by the door, where I last kicked them off a few hours ago. The puppy is wandering the small space between spiceboy and myself and checking us out, as if to make sure she approves of what we're doing.
So we've made it 365 days in this small space, and most of them were damn good days. I know we won't live here forever, and that someday, we'll look back on this tiny little room with fond memories and say to each other how did we ever live in a space that small?
But for better or worse, we are here. In our 350 sq ft apartment on the unfashionable end of the fashionable Upper East Side. We are home.
Finally.
On July 23, 2005, spiceboy and I hauled all of our earthly possessions from Boston to New York. It was a brutally hot day, and I remember parking my car on Second Avenue and looking around at the shops, restaurants, and people everywhere. This is home now, I thought, testing the word "home" on myself to see if it fit. I was giddy with the prospect of all of New York spread out at my feet.
Then I stepped out of my car and plunged my foot into a sinkhole filled with warm, inky black water.
Yeah, New York is like that sometimes.
After making countless trips up the four flights of steps, after cramming all of the wordly possessions that had once filled our 650 sq ft Boston apartment into the scant 350 sq ft that was to become our home, and after the movers finally left, spiceboy and I stood in the middle of the chaos, staring at one another, then at the towers of boxes and piles of junk surrounding us.
The general feeling in the air, as I recall, was now what?
Then Dear Friend ABS showed up with a couple of six packs of beer, and we drank them together, perched on various boxes and pieces of furniture, and chatting. And the apartment was a mess and the air was hot and sticky and the whole apartment smelled vaguely of cat pee, but for better or worse, we were here. In New York. Finally.
Fast foward 365 days:
It's a cool evening. spiceboy is in the kitchen, fussing over dinner, and the house smells of garlic and roasted vegetables. I'm in the bedroom, tapping away at the computer. The TV is on, the window is open, and my white ballet slippers--the ones I wore to my wedding and that I now wear everyday--are sitting by the door, where I last kicked them off a few hours ago. The puppy is wandering the small space between spiceboy and myself and checking us out, as if to make sure she approves of what we're doing.
So we've made it 365 days in this small space, and most of them were damn good days. I know we won't live here forever, and that someday, we'll look back on this tiny little room with fond memories and say to each other how did we ever live in a space that small?
But for better or worse, we are here. In our 350 sq ft apartment on the unfashionable end of the fashionable Upper East Side. We are home.
Finally.
posted by east side girl at 8:20 PM
8 Comments:
That's so sweet! Congratulations on everything!
YEA! Of course you made it through the year! Lots of love and good food will get us through everything! Add a beautiful wedding where you were surrounded by people who love you and the wonderfulness of a puppy's wet nose and you're golden!
It was amazing to see you last week! I can't believe I hadn't seen Spiceboy in a YEAR! That craziness should never happen again! I'll be back the week of Aug 23 and I was thinking an excursion through Chinatown!!!!
I heart you both (and Betty too)!
Congratulations!!
How very exciting!
so true - our old apt was bigger than 350 sq ft (i think), but with slanted ceilings, it felt a LOT smaller. But I think it's a testament to one's relationship when two people can love harmoniously in a tiny tiny space.
congrats :)
That's almost 1 day/sq ft. : )
Congrats!
At least you are only two steps away from almost everything!
Sorry to hear about the poop thing, I'm sure it will all come out in the end...groan...
I brought beer? You forgot to mention the mover with crazy buttsweat.
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